Moving Poem

"Write your dreams," said Carolyn Kizer,
(She, the wiser of our workshop fools.)
New rules for us, so I rise from bed, 
still cordoned in sleep to record this one 
of many in which you star, now far 
away, to help you pack, knowing you'd be 
back always, from where without me,
time took you.  In the midst of this, 
you turned to embrace and enter me 
with such ferocity of passion as was your 
fashion, anyway; the door shut against all 
comers, no pun intended,  until our first-
born knocked and entered as he did 
that February day so long ago, and when 
you were gone, he said, "I never thought 
of you as lovers," and I said, laughing, 
"How did you think we got you? by 
divine design and direct intention. " 
Husband of late, you attend me now, 
it seems, only in  the parallel 
universe of dreams.

husbandmeuniverseballad

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